


A Practical Glossary for the Twenty-first Century

by shadowen



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Ace!Bucky, Asexual Character, Bisexual Male Character, Feel-good, M/M, No Angst, Power of Words, Prompt Fic, Self-Discovery, Slow Build, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 07:50:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2724464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowen/pseuds/shadowen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some words are easier than others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Practical Glossary for the Twenty-first Century

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anarialm (daizy2k2)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daizy2k2/gifts).



> The lovely anarialm won a give-away on my Tumblr ([link](http://shadowen.tumblr.com)) and chose a fic as their prize, asking for ace!Bucky realizing he has feelings for Sam, which is pretty much the best prompt ever. Enjoy! <3

**Visibility.**

The most amazing thing about seeing the passage of a century is the words.

For most of Bucky’s lifetime, the language of his world has been limited to identifiers and orders. _Target. Asset. Eliminate. Wipe._ Coming in from the cold - metaphorically and literally - means learning and unlearning decades of vocabulary, like rediscovering the streets of Brooklyn and the long-silenced voice of his own body.

Some words are easier than others.

The plaques at the Smithsonian are easy. They’re all words he used to know, and the stories Steve tells help him tunnel toward their place in his deeply buried memories. He doesn’t need to relearn anything, just to remember.

It’s the new words that throw him off, or really the old words that have been repurposed for a new world. He hears the hint of a whole vocabulary filled with reworkings and reclamations at a press conference when a reporter asks Sam about “what it’s like being a Black gay superhero”.

“Bisexual,” Sam corrects, grinning. “Black bisexual superhero. You gotta get that alliteration in there.”

The crowd laughs, and Sam gives an answer that Bucky only understands half of but that he’s sure is smart and meaningful, because everything Sam says is smart and meaningful. He knows a lot of things have changed, that words he used to hear as insults are now wielded like swords by the people they were used against, but it still throws him to see the battle being fought in the open.

“That’s why it’s important,” Sam tells him later. “Being out there, being seen, even just putting it in words. It lets people know they’re not alone.” Everything Sam says is smart and meaningful, Bucky thinks again, until Sam smirks and adds, “Plus, you know I gotta make sure the fellas _and_ the ladies know I’m available.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and wonders if there’s a word for the feeling in his stomach.

 

**Awareness.**

The internet is incredible.

_Search engine_ , _email_ , and _social media_ aren’t new terms for him; they’ve had their uses in tracking down targets. Now that he can explore, though, he finds strange new sources of information and entertainment that involve phrases like _crowdsource_ and _cat videos_. 

He will absolutely never ever admit it out loud, but Bucky _loves_ cat videos.

The internet is where he starts to find words that apply, not just to the brave new world around him, but to himself, words that end in _sexual_ and have nothing to do with sex. Some of them he already knew, but there are others that click in his head in a way he didn’t think words could, words for _not_ wanting that don’t make the absence feel like just another way that he’s broken. He’s not sure he can own those words yet, but he practices saying them, just in case.

Sam starts sending him cat videos, and he thinks there might be other words he needs to practice, too.

 

**Spectrum.**

The Avengers go from _Steve’s_ friends to _Bucky’s_ friends to Bucky’s _family_ faster than he really knows what’s happening. 

It takes him a while to put his finger on it, why these strangers feel so familiar and how people with no common ground can fit so well together, but he finally figures out that it’s because they don’t fit anywhere else. This bizarre contingent feels the way he and Steve always did, the way the Commandoes did, like they’re all misfits pitched against the world. The realization that he _remembers_ that feeling leaves him breathless for a full minute.

“Guess that’s the thing about square pegs,” Sam says when Bucky mentions it. “We only fit with other squares.”

“You callin’ me square, Sammy?” Bucky gives him a crooked grin, and Sam laughs. Jokes are still not second nature, but they come a little more readily with Sam.

“I’m calling you a messed up puppy, just like the rest of us.” Sam’s voice doesn’t change as he adds, “Just like any soldier that manages to come home.”

Bucky doesn’t have an answer for that. His shrink would say he’s having trouble articulating his feelings. What he’s having trouble with is matching new words to old feelings and figuring out which words are right for all the things he feels right now.

 

**Orientation.**

He practices the words with Steve, because Steve knows him and knew him, and the worst Steve will do is pretend to understand when he doesn’t. There is a ghost of a memory in the back of his head of some night or nights in another life where another version of himself is trying to express what this present version has so recently learned to say.

In the memory, Steve frowns and tells him it’s okay. Now, Steve puts a hand on his shoulder and intones gravely, “There’s just one thing I need to hear from you.”

Bucky steels himself and meets Steve’s eye. “What’s that?”

“I need you to say, ‘Steve, buddy, you were right, and I’m sorry for being such a whiny puss’.”

Shoving him off, Bucky rolls his eyes. “Jerk.”

Steve shakes his head. “I don’t usually get much outta saying I told you so, but...”

“That’s such a lie.”

“But I’m glad you got it figured out,” Steve says earnestly, grinning. “Even if it does make you sound like an amoeba.”

Bucky just rolls his eyes again and walks away.

“They couldn’t come up with a better word than _asexual_? Really?” Steve calls after him.

“You’re an asshole, Rogers,” Bucky shoots back, but he’s smiling as he says it. 

 

**Pride.**

The old words turn out to be a little harder, when it comes time to say them, but Bucky had enough practice in the previous century that he manages to say, almost casually, “I’d like to take you dancing, some time.”

Sam stares back at him, startled. For a second, Bucky thinks that he’s misread everything, that he got the wrong words somehow, but then Sam raises an eyebrow and asks, “Why dancing?”

Bucky blinks. “What do you mean _why dancing_? People still go dancing, don’t they?”

“Sure, but it’s not really the go-to date idea,” Sam replies. “Most people go out to dinner or the movies or something.”

“So you... you don’t wanna go dancing?” Bucky feels like this conversation is getting off track.   
Sam shrugs. “Dancing’s fine. I just wondered if there was a particular reason.”

“It’s what we used to do,” Bucky says, but that’s only half the truth. 

Sam nods, because he understands the need for familiar things and how rare they are for Bucky. “Guess I didn’t figure you for the old fashioned type.”

Now Bucky’s the one to raise an eyebrow. “You know I’m older than Steve, right?”

“Yeah, I know, I just didn’t...” Sam ducks his head, grinning. “Anyway. Yeah. Dancing. That’d be cool.” 

He thought Sam would say yes or he wouldn’t have asked, but imagining the words always pales next to hearing them. Bucky grins back. “Okay. Good. That’s good.” He starts to leave before he remembers that a promise isn’t actually a plan. “Oh. So, Friday? Assuming we don’t...”

“Have to save the world?” Sam finishes, his face angled down like he doesn’t want to show the full force of his broad smile. “Yeah, Friday’s good, barring world-saving.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

For a moment, they just stand there, beaming at each other, until Sam shakes his head and gestures toward the opposite door, saying, “So I’m gonna...”

“Right. Yeah. I’ll, uh, see you later.” Bucky waits until Sam is gone to let out what feels like the biggest, most relieved sigh of his life.

Sam already knows the important words for who Bucky is and what he doesn’t want, but there don’t have to be words in dancing, new or otherwise. The vocabulary is all hands and hips and glances, and Bucky thinks he can say everything he wants to with only a couple of well-worn expressions. Maybe he’ll even learn a few fresh terms, just for the occasion.


End file.
